


Unfair

by oldcountrymage



Series: Fenders Fluff [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Cats, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 00:51:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3230045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldcountrymage/pseuds/oldcountrymage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders pays Fenris a house call and gets an unexpected surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfair

If Hawke thought Anders was going anywhere near Fenris’ decrepit mansion in the absence of a mob of angry templars chasing him through Hightown, he had another thing coming.

At least that’s what he’d meant to say when Hawke had the nerve to ask him to pay the bastard a house call. What he’d actually said was, 

“I suppose I should see how he’s getting along.”

Fenris was sick. Had been sick for two weeks now, though he’d sooner keel over than let the healer lay a hand on him. Anders, ever the hopeful fool, had tried to offer his help when he first noticed the elf sniffling on the Wounded Coast. Upon approaching him, staff raised as he readied a rejuvenation spell, Fenris had made a rather crass suggestion as to where he might shove said staff, and that had been the end of Anders giving a damn.

A week later, Fenris showed up on an errand looking like he’d cleared out the wine cellar the night before. His eyes were red, his face swollen, and the sniffle from before had evolved into undignified, mucousy snorting.

“Fenris, you’re not going anywhere like that,” Hawke had told him.

“I’m--” A pause before the elf let out a vicious sneeze. “--fine.”

“Right. Look, the only way you’re going with us is if you let Anders help you.”

That had snuffed that argument quickly enough. Since then, Fenris had been holed up in his mansion, presumably brooding and thinking of a way he might blame his stuffy nose on mages. Varric checked in on him every few days with a basket of vittles just so he could assure Hawke the elf hadn’t died. It would serve him right as far as Anders was concerned, though he really doubted Fenris’ sickness would progress beyond some well-deserved misery and annoyance. 

If it became serious, he could drag himself to the clinic and admit he needed the help of a mage like a big, grown-up elf. At the very least, Fenris owed him a good pleading before he’d even _consider_ helping -- “Please, oh mighty healer, I shall surely perish without the aid of your wondrous power!” would do. There was certainly no chance of Anders being the bigger person in all of this and offering to heal him again.

That had been the plan about an hour ago. _Dammit, Hawke_.

Now he stood before the entrance to the warrior’s home, potions weighing down the pockets of his coat. He found the door locked upon trying the handle, so he gave it a few hard knocks with the end of his staff. No response came after a few heartbeats, so he knocked again, harder.

“It’s your friendly neighborhood healer! I’m here on Hawke’s orders. Let me in or I’m burning down the door.”

There was a sudden muffled clamor within. Anders jumped back as the door jerked open just enough to let Fenris poke his scowling face out.

“Do you _want_ to attract the attention of templars?” Fenris growled at him, his voice a rasp. “I was getting to the door, give me a moment!”

The door slammed in his face. Anders decided he’d give it a good two minutes before establishing Fenris wasn’t coming back. Much to his surprise, he didn’t need to wait more than a few seconds before the door opened again, a little wider to allow him inside. He tried not to seem nervous when Fenris immediately locked it behind him the moment he was within.

The mansion looked better than he last remembered seeing it. There were no skeletons strewn about, and dusty cobwebs no longer hung from every corner. He could see the dim glow of a fire in the next room, and smelled the pleasant aroma of a boiling stew. The place still wasn’t what he’d call cozy, but it was at least habitable now. 

“I see you’ve redecorated.”

Fenris just stared at him, silent. He wasn’t wearing his armor, instead opting for a loose tunic and belt over his leggings, so he didn’t seem nearly as imposing as usual. He looked rather adorable actually - not that Anders would say so, or that Fenris would have even let him get the words out of his mouth before murdering him.

“What does Hawke want?” 

“You know bloody well what he wants. You’ve been completely useless for the past two weeks. Look, I’ve brought healing potions, and you’re going to take them so Hawke will stop worrying himself to death over you. Can we please go in the other room and sit down?”

When Anders tried to head into the next room, Fenris crossed his arms and blocked the way.

“Why? Can you not simply give me the potions and be gone?”

“Hawke wanted me to examine you too. No magic!” he said, rolling his eyes as he propped his staff against the wall.

Fenris’ gaze flicked briefly to the entrance to the next room before settling on Anders again.

“Then conduct your examination here.”

Anders tried once more to barrel past Fenris into the next room. At this point, he was just being an ass. Fenris was guarding the room like a dragon defending its hoard, so there had to be something interesting in there. A collection of filthy romance novels, perhaps? Maybe that’s why it’d taken him a minute to get to the door...

Fenris did not even flinch when Anders ran smack into him.

“Mage,” he warned as Anders pushed hard against his shoulder. His markings pulsed faintly.

Maker, it was just wrong that a teeny little elf could be that strong.

“What is your problem?” Anders grit out, still shoving. “What’s in that room?”

“That is none--!”

Anders felt movement beneath them, and the argument sputtered to a halt. The hair on his neck raised as something wound its way around his leg. He leapt away from the elf with an unmanly squeak, hoping whatever foul demon had risen from the earth would focus on Fenris long enough for him to get his staff. Oh, of course it’d be demons. When was it ever anything else?

Except...it wasn’t. The moment Anders looked down, his momentary panic ebbed and a wide grin spread across his face. 

“Venhedis,” Fenris muttered, looking away when Anders plopped down on the floor and began to coo at the cat wound around his legs.

“Here kitty, kitty! Come here kitty, come here!”

The cat, a silver tabby with brilliant green eyes, stared at Anders much like Fenris stared at Anders. Like he was a complete idiot.

“When did you get a cat Fenris?” Anders asked, still grinning like a madman when he looked up at the elf.

Fenris turned on his heel without a word and disappeared into the next room, the cat in pursuit. Anders felt a bit of pink rise to his cheeks when he thought about what he must have looked like there on the ground making kissy faces between Fenris’ legs.

He sat on the floor a little longer and let himself bask in his shame before following. Fenris was already seated before the fire in the next room, stirring the pot of stew he’d smelled. The cat was curled against his side, its head resting against his thigh.

“That is entirely unfair,” Anders declared. “You don’t even like cats.”

“When did I say I did not like cats?” Fenris replied, not bothering to turn around.

“When you were Fenris, the elf who hates everything I love on principal.”

Fenris chuckled, and the noise sent an unexpected spike of warmth through Anders. Fenris’ smiles were a rare enough commodity, only coaxed from him through incessant prodding by Hawke or Isabela, but he’d only heard the elf laugh on a handful of occasions. Okay, so the little chuckle didn’t exactly count as a full-on, belly-shaking ‘laugh’, but it was close enough to make him infuriatingly giddy about having caused it.

“I do like cats,” Fenris said, scratching the animal behind the ears. The cat lifted its head and bumped against his hand, meowing softly. Fenris regarded it fondly for a moment before he suddenly reared his head back and sneezed. The cat leapt away at the noise, skittering to the opposite end of the room.

“But I am afraid I am allergic.”

Well, that solved the mystery of Fenris’ oh-so-deadly illness.

“Huh. Well, I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’m not sure that’s something I can heal.”

“There is no need for healing. I thought I made that clear.”

“Look, Fenris. As admirable as it is that you want to suffer for this beautiful creature, Hawke is not going to let you remain a congested ball of sick for the sake of a cat.”

“It... it is not going to remain here much longer. I--fasta vass, mage,” Fenris sneezed again, then finally turned around and looked at him. “I was told you liked cats. This one was to be your name day gift.”

“Why?” Anders blurted. 

He damned the heat rising to his face for the second time since he’d arrived. Fenris did not deserve to see him blush like a maiden. No -- no, he did not get to pull this shit now, not after Anders had finally (kind of) quashed his stupid crush. 

He’d pined for that blighted elf far longer than he wanted to admit. Even after learning about his issues with mages, he’d watched him in battle and thought of the way those lean muscles would feel beneath his hands. He’d envied the easy friendships he fell into with Hawke, Isabela, and Varric. At times he’d hated himself for having fallen for someone who despised him simply for his nature, and other times he hated himself because he couldn’t change what he was. 

And in all those years, Fenris had never shown the barest hint of interest in him, or even acted as though he liked Anders as a friend. 

Now he was going to sit there and tell Anders he one, cared enough to buy him a name day gift, and two, had bothered to find out when his name day even was? 

This really, really wasn’t fair.

“I...I wanted to--” Fenris gestured clumsily in the air for a moment before letting his hands fall into his lap. 

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he offered.

“A surprise,” Anders repeated, eyebrows raised.

He took a good look at Fenris sitting there, slumped over, gaze averted, teeth pressed tightly against his bottom lip. He opened his mouth to speak and shut it again, letting his own gaze drift to the fireplace. The pot over the fire. The stew bubbling threateningly at the lip of the pot. Anywhere but the sinfully attractive elf who was about to shatter his resolution to stop lusting after people that completely hated him. Except... maybe…?

“The stew,” Anders said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Fenris fetched a cloth and took the overflowing pot from the fire, setting it against the ground. The cat trotted over again, sniffing at the spillage on the floor before lapping some of it up. Fenris made a face, but didn’t bother trying to shoo it away.

“Would you...like some?” Fenris asked Anders, nodding to the pot.

“Hmph. What happened to ‘just give me the potions and leave’?”

Fenris bristled instantly.

“If you do not want--”

“No, I -- yes, I’ll take a bowl,” Anders quickly interjected. Then, a bit strained, “Thank you. For the food. And the cat. That was...very thoughtful.”

Fenris subjected him to another hard gaze before the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

“She is not yours yet, mage.”

“Oh come on, you’re really going to let yourself suffer for another week?” Anders called after Fenris as he rose and disappeared into the next room. 

He returned shortly with two bowls, passing one to Anders once he’d ladled it full of stew. Anders didn’t bother with the spoon Fenris waved in front of him, drinking down the meal straight from the bowl in his hunger. It was delicious, or at least it seemed delicious after skipping dinner the night before and breakfast that morning. Hopefully Fenris hadn’t secretly poisoned him...

“Your allergies aren’t going to go away until you get rid of the cat, Fenris,” Anders said between swallows of soup.

“I hardly think you are concerned with my welfare for some reason,” said Fenris. “You are not getting the cat prior to your name day, mage.”

“What I’m concerned about is Hawke throwing another tantrum over you. He’s not going to shut up until you’re back on the field and not liable to get us killed with a sneezing attack in a dragon’s lair. And...maybe I want the cat a little.”

When Fenris finished his meal and set aside the empty bowl, the cat immediately leapt into his lap again, bumping her head against his chin. He smoothed the fur on her back and let her continue to rub against his face, despite the angry red splotches already rising on his skin. Anders put aside his own bowl and clicked his tongue, calling to her from his seat on the floor. She studied him with the same unimpressed expression from before, then flopped down against Fenris and closed her eyes.

“Maybe you should keep her after all,” Anders said, frowning. “Apparently your hatred of me has rubbed off on her.”

“I do not _hate_ you mage,” Fenris said immediately. He followed the admission with a snort, obviously trying to distract from the urgency that had been in his voice. Anders really tried not to think too hard about that. “Are you certain you would not prefer a dog? You should know cats are generally not the most affectionate of creatures.”

“She’s being rather affectionate with _you_.”

Fenris sniffed, looking down at the cat nestled snugly against his thigh.

“Come here mage.”

Anders just sat there, wary, until Fenris thumped his palm against the space on the bench beside him. He made sure to leave a sizable space between them when he sat, not wanting a fist through his chest for getting mage germs on Fenris.

“Sit closer.”

He scooted closer, still not daring to touch the elf. Fenris glared at him, annoyance reflected in his bleary eyes.

“Closer, mage.”

Anders growled under his breath and pressed himself as close to Fenris as possible without crawling into his bloody lap. He felt the heat of Fenris’ leg against his own like a brand. 

“Any reason we’re sitting like this?” he snapped. His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest without even needing the help of Fenris’ little trick.

He felt a warm pressure against his thigh and realized Fenris was repositioning the cat so that she was lying between them, her head resting against the elf and her bottom half in Anders’ lap. When Anders reached to pet her, he suddenly forgot he was awkwardly pressed against his arch rival. All that mattered was that there was a warm, happy, sleepy cat purring into his touch. She trilled happily when he scratched the nape of her neck and he was nearly beside himself.

“You’re so cute,” he cooed. “Who’s a pretty kitty? Yes you are--”

“Be still, mage,” Fenris said. “This is why the cat avoids you. Your restlessness perturbs her.”

“What? I’m not restless.”

Anders hadn’t realized he was bouncing one of his legs in his excitement until Fenris reached over and placed a hand on his knee. That also brought back the awful realization he was flush against a warm body for the first time in ages, and that said body belonged to the beautiful, mage-hating bastard that had ruined him for anyone else.

The hand on his knee lingered as the seconds ticked by. The purring of the cat was the only noise in the room aside from the crackle of the fire behind them.

“Will your...spirit permit you to keep this cat?” Fenris said after a period of uncomfortable silence.

“Oh, um...” Anders recalled Justice’s insufferable lecture on how it was wrong to ‘enslave’ Ser Pounce-A-Lot. “I think we can work it out.”

There was hope. Justice had been uncharacteristically quiet since he’d agreed to visit Fenris. Probably because the spirit had just as much of a stupid crush on Fenris as he did, though Justice denied he could possess such feelings. If pressed about it, he’d insist that he merely respected Fenris for his dedication to eradicating the unjust system of slavery, and found him an adept warrior. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact Justice had been obsessed with the concept of romance since inheriting Kristoff’s memories. Oh, and certainly nothing to do with the lyrium tattoos covering Fenris, not at all.

“I am glad,” Fenris said. “I did not know what I might offer you otherwise.”

“You really didn’t have to get me anything,” Anders said softly.

Fenris looked at him with those wide, forlorn eyes and damn it all, there went every last drop of his dignity. Right out the window and into the bowels of the Deep Roads to be torn asunder by darkspawn. Every bit of venom he’d swallowed over the years to inoculate himself against Fenris, every precious drop, drained from him in one instant. 

He leaned forward.

And Fenris did not kiss him back.

“Oh Maker,” Anders stammered, jerking his head back. Fenris’ hand was still gripping his knee, and it tightened as he tried to pull away. “Maker Fenris, I’m an idiot, I thought - I mean the gift, and sitting like this, I-”

Fenris looked calm, and that was definitely more terrifying than if he’d been spitting and cursing like Anders’ expected.

“I mean Andraste’s tits, Fenris! You can’t just cuddle up to a man in front of a fireplace and expect him not to kiss you! Look, just let me go, I’ll go find a good rock to crawl under, and we never speak of this again--”

“Hush, mage. You...merely surprised me.”

“Huh? Wait, you -” Anders stopped trying to get away. “You’re not angry?”

A bright blush suddenly accompanied the splotchy patches where the cat had rubbed against Fenris’ face.

“The answer to that should be obvious, mage.”

This was not happening. He’d been murdered by Fenris the minute he stepped foot in the door, and now his spirit was floating around in some blissful afterlife in which nice things actually happened to him.

“But you-- no, you don’t -- this isn’t--” Anders sought some last excuse to stop this, some shred of willpower to push Fenris away. “Shouldn’t we _talk_ about this?”

“We will talk later.”

Fenris leaned forward and took his lips, this time kissing him with an eagerness that made Anders melt against him. It was wonderful. Perfect. All he’d dreamed of--

Fenris suddenly pulled away and sneezed wetly between them. Anders swore, feeling the skin of his thigh ripped open as the cat startled and scrambled to escape. Somewhere in the back of his mind Justice was calling for retribution against the creature.

Then Fenris tugged him forward into another kiss, and everything was forgotten for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my first Dragon Age fic! I'm relatively new to the fandom, but I'm already hopelessly in love with Fenders. I'm currently working on a prequel to this fic from Fenris' POV, and have several other ideas lined up (I'm a sucker for fluff, be warned).
> 
> Check out my tumblr if you'd like. It's brand new and I need some folks to follow -- oldcountrymage.tumblr.com :)


End file.
